


Sharing With Them

by starwarned



Series: Carry On Countdown 2020 [21]
Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell, Simon Snow & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, Baking, Birthday, COC 2020, Carry On Countdown (Simon Snow), Carry On Countdown 2020, Carry On Countdown 2020 (Simon Snow), Carry On Countdown Day 23, CoC, Cooking/baking, Day 23 - Cooking/Baking, M/M, Missing Scene, Sort Of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:20:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28066899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starwarned/pseuds/starwarned
Summary: Carry On Countdown Day 23 - Cooking/Baking“This was why she enjoyed baking. A good dessert could make her feel like she'd created joy at the tips of her fingers. Suddenly, the people around the table were no longer strangers. They were friends and confidantes, and she was sharing with them her magic.” - Marissa MeyerBaz and Penelope attempt to make Simon's birthday a memorable affair. It works, but perhaps not for the right reasons.
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch & Simon Snow, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Series: Carry On Countdown 2020 [21]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2026942
Kudos: 20
Collections: Carry On Countdown 2020





	Sharing With Them

**Author's Note:**

> there's a line in WS that was the inspiration for this! - 
> 
> She cast a concealment spell his way without even thinking about it - and he went feral on her. "For fuck's sake, Penny, I'll tell you if I want your magic!"
> 
> and I liked it. and wanted to create a version of that, I guess. so here is some angst for no good reason! (and god it could have been better so I apologize but I wrote it... very quickly so sorry!)

_This is pointless,_ I think. 

Penelope knows it too, I’m sure. She’s practically a genius (I’ll never tell her that), and I know this is well within her wheelhouse of understanding. 

But Simon Snow is draped on the couch and it’s his birthday. It’s his birthday and Penelope and I are whispering in the kitchen like he’s not here. 

I don’t think he’s listening to us either way, but it does feel wrong to be whispering behind his back like this. He’s watching some insipid action film that I don’t recognize and the volume is just this side of too loud. He’s likely not even paying attention - he’s probably on his phone or drifting in and out of sleep. 

“Why didn’t you do this earlier?” I ask quietly. 

She shrugs. “I figured I’d have the time.” 

I make the choice not to roll my eyes. I need Penny on my side right now. “Can you spell the oven?” 

“I don’t know any oven-based spells, Baz,” she insists, her voice raising just above a whisper. She flinches and looks over to the sofa to be sure Simon hasn’t heard us. 

“And you call yourself the top of our class,” I mutter. 

She glares at me. (That’s a soft spot in our friendship.) “Let me figure something out,” she mutters. “Go talk to him.” 

I take a deep breath and nod. _He’s my boyfriend. I can talk to him._

Except I don’t know that I can. Simon’s always been quieter than most - he barely spoke when we were kids. And now I think words are just difficult for him. But over the past month or so, he’s barely spoken to me. Our main form of communication at this point is sitting next to each other and passively holding hands. Sometimes he’ll text me to apologize. I never ask what for. 

I brush past Penny and go to crouch next to the side of the couch where Simon’s head is resting. He’s shirtless and has his wings tucked up behind him. There used to be a time where if Simon’s shirt was off, my tongue was in his mouth. I’m not sure how we’ve left that behind, but it’s in my rearview mirror at this point. We haven’t done more than kiss in several weeks - not that we’d done much before that. Simon’s certainly not ready. And I’m not going to push him.

He’s awake, but staring at his phone and ignoring the movie. 

“Snow?” I say once I’ve crouched down far enough to be eye-level with him. He has to practically tear his eyes away from his phone, his face turning towards me far before his eyes do. He looks at me, unfocused. “Hey,” I say softly. 

“Hello,” he grunts. 

I gently run my fingers through the curls that flop down onto his forehead. He doesn’t shift away so I stay there, pressing the cool center of my palm against his forehead. “How are you?” I ask. 

He hates those questions (I do too), but sometimes it’s the only way I can tell how he’s feeling. Not because he answers truthfully. He doesn’t. 

“Fine,” he says. Proving my point. 

I can tell how he’s feeling because his eyes shift away from me and flick back to his phone. When I allow myself to peek at his phone, I know what’s wrong. He’s got a photo of himself and the Mage pulled up. I don’t have to look at it for more than a few seconds to recognize which one it is. 

It was taken when Simon was probably eleven - just after he’d started Watford. He’s standing under the Mage’s arm and is holding that infernal red ball in his free hand. He’s beaming, his cheeks bright and round, which is a huge contrast to how the Mage looks. The Mage has his hand clasped tightly on Simon’s shoulder and he looks like he’s about to give the camera some terrible news. 

It’s one of Simon’s only photos with the Mage. 

I can’t blame him for looking at it sometimes, but I wish he wouldn’t. I know it just hurts him more. And I’m sure it hurts more today - on his birthday - because the Mage was the only father figure he ever had (even if he was a shit one) and Simon, well, was the reason he died. 

I continue to fuss with Simon’s curls as I respond, “Okay,” softly. I peek up and find Penelope whispering hurried spells at the oven. She looks up brightly and I’m certain she’s figured it out. I knew she would. “Would you like to come eat?” I ask. 

He shrugs. And then when I’ve stared at him long enough, he sighs. “Yeah,” he says. “Alright.” 

Simon stands up and I lean back so he doesn’t hit me in the face. I stand up next to him and smile gently. 

When we’ve stepped around the couch and to the table, Penelope is grinning at the cake that she has magicked up in record-breaking time. It looks pretty good, too. 

“Happy birthday!” she cheers, waving her wand with a flourish. The candles spark to life and they burn brightly, illuminating the writing on the cake. 

_Happy Birthday, Si!_

Simon slowly lets a smile sink into his cheeks. He looks at Penelope with so much love and affection that I’m almost jealous. ( _Almost_. I know the way he loves Penny is different from the way he loves me.) His wings shake a bit behind him as if trying to get comfortable. 

I don’t think Penny even thinks about it - she just raises her wand and casts, “ **_These aren’t the droids you’re looking for!_ **” on Simon’s wings. 

He goes absolutely wild. “Penelope!” he growls. “I’ll fucking ask you if I need your magic!” 

She blinks immediately. “But— your wings,” she mutters. 

“You don’t need to spell them away every time they’re fucking bothering you!” Simon shouts. I’ve unconsciously taken a step away from him and he turns on me now. “Same goes for you.” 

I furrow my eyebrows and watch in fascinated terror as he sets his jaw and glares at me. “Snow—” 

“Both of you!” he yells. “You both are treating me like I’m some fucking child who hasn’t gotten the hang of his shoelace spells yet. I’m not _bad at magic_ — I’m _not magic_ anymore! Get that into your bloody thick skulls and leave me alone!” 

He stands there, huffing, for just a moment longer. He steps over to the couch, snatches up his hoodie he’d left there, and rushes to the door.

Before he leaves, he spits out, “And I can hear you when you talk about me. Learn to talk about me behind my back when I’m not ten feet away.” 

If this argument had happened three months ago, he would have left the room smelling of smoke. 

Instead, he leaves it silent and tense. Penny and I look at each other and I can see the hurt in her eyes. I’m sure she can see it in mine. I slip into the living room to grab my coat. Because even though I think I’m the last person he wants to see right now, it’s his birthday. And I’m not sure that he’s been out of the house enough recently to not get lost.

**Author's Note:**

> yeah I know that the timing of this is super off... don't worry about it...


End file.
